Turn My World
by dribblestheturtle
Summary: Ever wondered what happened during D2 in the camp of the Icelanders? Well, that's my idea of it. Warnings: SLASH, abuse... in later chapters
1. Prologue

_So, I've searched and searched and searched through that place for weeks, but I can't find about more than one story that isn't confusing to hell, that tells the story of the Junior Goodwill Games through the eyes of an Icelander. Since I got a new computer ( god, I love it 3) I put my ass in front of it and wrote it myself. Hope someone reads it and actually leaves a comment :)_

_Please R&R!_

_We all know that if the Ducks belonged to me, I wouldn't write that here. Besides, the movies are all elder than myself, so it's technically impossible, too._

_**Prologue:**_

_Philosophical point of view:_

Now when I think back, those weeks included some of the greatest moments of my life. I was fourteen years old and it was surely something to be grateful for. How many guys my age had the opurtunity to represent their country at an international level in LA back then? There were 14 others and I out of thousands of guys with one fascination: hockey.

_Short self instruction:_

I'm 21 years old and about 6,2 feet high. My mother tongue is German, but I speak a few other languages, too. I have a hysterical and over protective mom called Emma and a father (Frederik) who doesn't really care about me, just about my brother (Lukas). He's seven years elder than me and there are worlds between us. He's perfect. Really. He was even then. He is a great son, boyfriend and father (Oh yeah, he put a child into that world. If you ask me it's not just one, but nobody cares what I say.) I have honey blonde hair and dark green eyes. I have no girlfriend, I'm not married. The _only _important thing in my life's hockey.

_What I did before:_

My older brother often insists that I couldn't even really go at the time I got my first pair of skates. According to the fact, that I really skate since I can think that comes near to reality. I started playing when I was six as the youngest member of the Skautafelag Reykjavíkur PeeWee team. I stayed there till I got 11. That's it. I didn't play at all till I got recruited for the National Team for the Junior Goodwill Games. I still loved to watch the Juniors Team play, but they didn't want to have me. I was too short, they always said. Okay, I was just 4,9 feet high, but I couldn't help it.

_How I can remember that whole shit:_

I've written down everything before and during the games, because the Coach told us so. At that time I thought it was stupid, I still somehow do think that, because who asks a fourteen year old hormone driven boy to write down his _feelings_ in a book? I did it anyways. Now it's quite handy, because it's been a few years and I can't really remember every single detail from then.

_Something important that has to be said:_

Firstly, there are _always_ two or more ways to see a story. That's my point of view.

_I knew I forgot something!_

My name's Gunnar Florian Stahl and I was part of Team Iceland or the Iceland Vikings from the Junior Goodwill Games which took place from the 2nd July to the 28th August in LA, California in 2003. I'm proud to say I'm an Icelander. I love my country.

_Please Review 3_


	2. Meeting the Wolf

_Okay, the prologue is done and chapter one is here. I think I'll make little chapters, but more of them, cause somehow I cam write better if there isn't that much written. I'm sorry if Gunnar's totally not 14, but I write it like it was me and since I'm 15… Yeah well, nobody reads that, so why do I write it? Cause I have way too much free time. _

_Owning blah blah God I'm getting so sick of that. I don't wanna steal people (is that even possible?). _

_Please R&R :)_

_**Meeting the Wolf:**_

_How this whole insanity began:_

I was at the rink in the city just skating later that evening. As I made a lap after another, I got faster and faster. That's the trick behind it. Always begin slow and work your way up. It makes you tired if you do it otherwise. Suddenly I heard a guy skate towards me. He stopped me and I looked up to him. He was huge, at least 6,2 feet high. Compared to my 5,6 from then, that was big. He had dark brown hair, but light blue eyes. His face wasn't soft, sharp edges and pale skin. He could scare you, but I never was an angsty kid.

"How does it come, that you aren't on the Juniors team?" He asked me.

"I don't know." I answered. "They said that I'm to small." He snorted.

"Looks like them. Judging little boys over their size."

"I'm not that small." I argued. I hated it when people spoke about my size. I had grown since was 11. A lot, actually.

"Where did you learn to skate like that?"

"Halfway in PeeWee's and the rest by my own. I also watch loads of games." I told him.

"Do you mind trying something?" He asked and lowered down a bit in the position of a defenseman. My eyes sparkled with joy and I hunkered down, too. We wore no pads or had sticks with us. As I was beginning to move forward he watched me intensely, as if to try to read what I was going to do next. My brain worked on it's maximum ability. What should I do? I couldn't think of a way to get past him without making a complete fool out of myself. I don't know what has driven me back then. I stopped and began to skate backwards in a small circle halfway around him and then stopped again for changing to froward skating again. He had no chance to see that coming. He stopped and began to clap silently. Because of the silence in the rink, you could even hear that perfectly. He smiled as he came across the center ice towards me.

"Nice, nice. What's your name?" He asked as he stood near me.

"Gunnar Stahl. May I ask you why that's important?"

"Stahl? Like that guy that plays for Skautafelag?"

"My elder brother, yes, sir." I answered proudly. My brother might have been an asshole, but he was a great hockey player. He doesn't like me even those days.

"So it's in the blood, then. Would you like to play for me? I'm going to coach the National Hockey Team for the Junior Goodwill Games. I could need someone like you." I was stunned and must have eyed him that way, because he began to laugh slightly. "I drive you home if you want and we can talk to your parents. You have talent, it would be a shame to waste it that way." He patted my shoulder, as I continued to stare at him with my mouth dropped to the flor. He smiled. "Come on, you have to know that you have talent." The truth was: no. Everybody told me that I couldn't do it. My dad said I wasn't perfect enough- short form for not Lukas. Lukas always patted my head when I wanted to show him my skating, like I was a dog. My mom usually began to list all the bones I could break myself while playing hockey, or how I could hurt myself.

"No, sir." I answered.

"Well, then you know now. Besides, I'm Wolf Stansson."

_**30**__**th **__**March 2003:**_

_**I dunno, that guy came to me and asked me if I wanted to play for him. First I thought 'Who's that guy? Is he fuckin' kiddin' me?'. Actually he wants me to play for the National Team at the Junior Goodwill Games. Dunno what that is, but I'll find out. His name's Wolf. He looks kinda scary, but I'll deal with that. He talked with my parents, think he hates them. Can't blame him for that, though. Mom steadily wailed, how hurt her baby-boy could get. Dad just said that he had 'business' to do and he agreed with everything. Guess I'm going to LA. The day after tomorrow we'll have the first meeting Wolf said. Think that's kinda funny calling him Wolf. We'll get to know each other and get our gear. Can't wait for that, cause my skates are beyond ashaming. Well, I'm gonna hit the mat now.**_

How everything is written:

_**Diary Entries by 14 year old Gunnar**_

_**Chapter's Headliner**_

_Teilüberschrift_

22 year old Gunnar's POV of the story


	3. The Wolf's Pack

_Day three of my Christmas break. The weather sucks, I can't go skiing cause it's to wide away to get there by bus. So chapter two's up. Be nice and R&R :)_

_The guys from the movies don't belong to me, we all know that. I do own their personalities. Tha, I like that._

_**The Wolf's Pack:**_

_Surroundings:_

It was cold outside that day. We met at my former school's gym. The others all talked in little groups so I sat down on one of those fat mats who laid in the room. Firstly, I took off the shirt my mom made me wear and just threw it into my backpack. I hated it that she always made me wear those preppy clothes. Then I looked around. The guys were all about my age, just larger than me. I felt like the little odd one out. Then Wolf came inside.

_Wolf's speech:_

So, boys, today we're together as the 15 we have to be for the first time. Since I'm not the best one to hold speeches, everyone just stands up and says his name, where he's from, how old he is, which position he plays, which team he plays for and what he does besides hockey.

_The result of that:_

Rune Stinnik from Akureyrí, 15, goalie, Akureyríur Vindbylur, going to the movies;

Krischan Amsalik from Seydisfjörður, 15, forward, Skautafelag Seydisfjörður, playing in a band;

Sven Marksson from Reykjavik, 15, forward, Skautafelag Reykjavíkur, going out;

Olaf Sandersson from Reykjavik, 15, defense, Skautafelag Reykjavíkur, going out;

Stephan Frederiksson from Borgarnes, 14, defense, Borgarnes Bears, computer games;

Mark Tillsson from Höfn, 14, forward, Höfn Hurricanes, computer games;

Ole Freisson from Vík, 15, defense, Vík Vikings, playing bass and guitar;

Rayk Jonsson from þórshöfn, 14, forward, þórshöfn Hammers, playing drums;

Siri-Liv Sternsdottir from Akranes, 15, defense, Akranes Sabres, cheerleading (I think that was a joke, cause she's about as cheering as a piece of dry bread)

Tian-Fin Sternsson from Akranes, 15, forward, Akranes Sabres, skating;

Ari Svensson from Húsavík, 14, goalie, Húsavík Hunters, skiing;

Hakon Frederiksson from Höfn, 14, forward, Höfn Hurricanes, going out;

Sander Waarn from Borgarnes, 15, forward, Borgarnes Bears, going to the movies;

Njal Reiksson from Keflavík, 14, forward, Keflavík Hawks, playing keyboard or piano;

_And last but not least, myself:_

Gunnar Stahl from Reykjavík, 14, forward, nowhere, playing guitar;

_What happened next:_

Coach told us to go into groups or so and talk a bit. I hated that, cause obviously no group wanted me with them. The other guys from Reykjavík I knew. They ruled the school. Suddenly that girl, first I couldn't really recognize her as a girl, but she was a she, yelled something in my direction. My head shot up and I looked at her unsure what to do. I hadn't recognized what she wanted cause she spoke kinda slang. "Come here, nowhere-boy. I'm getting tired of arguing with those idiots." She hollered. Wait, that was no Icelandic slang, that was defenitely German. I smiled shyly and made my way up to her. She sat on kinda castle like thingy which was made out of the stuff that belonged to the gym. Her arm reached out for mine and she pulled me up on her lap, but I quickly regained composure and sat down on the mat. They all stared at me, at least it felt like that. „"Uhm, hi." I said. Wow, great, Gunnar, that really doesn't show how afraid you are.

"Hey, I'm Siv, don't ever call me my full name, or I might smack you. I don't like it. So, little, how come that you're here and don't play for any team?" I blushed. Why did she have to ask that?

"I dunno. I was just skating that day and Coach asked me if I wanted to play." I shrugged.

"Cool, so, Gunnar, those are Tif, my baby-brother, Njal, the only great Hawk, Ari, a great speedster and he's good at skiing, too, Rayk, my baby-cousin, Ole, the guy with the fast fingers and Rune, the guy I have to thank for the fact, that I look like an human being." She grinned like a loon. Okay, maybe I could buy the cheerleader-story. The boys all rolled their eyes. Then, the guy that Siv introduced to me as Tif, smacked her lightly on the head. "She's just three hours elder than me. Don't take her personally, she's a loon. That probably has something to do with the fact that she always gets checked, but _she's_ the defense, she should _check_ not _get checked_. Somehow, she hasn't understood the rules of the game completely, no matter that she plays for already 7 years." After that she spatted something impossible to understand back and they start arguing. The others rolled their eyes again.

"They can argue for hours about Siv's abilities in hockey. They're crazy, but they get better the longer you know them." Rayk explained. I really smiled the first time for god nows how long.

_**1**__**st**__** April 2003:**_

_**Guess, I'm going to like that. I mean, what's better than getting away from my family **_**and**_** playing hockey for entire summer break? The guys from school threw me dirty looks, think they hate me. Don't know me, though. We have a girl on our team. Didn't recognize till she told us her name, tough. She's tomboy to the core. At least she seems to be. Her name's Siv. No, in here I'll call her Siri, her real name. Then there's her brother, Tif. Siv and Tif. Siv and Tif. That's kinda funny. Then there's their cousin Rayk. He seems to be more mature than both of them even tough he's younger. Rune's cute… The others from our group, Ari, Ole and Njal, I can't tell how they are. The rest of the team gathered around Olaf and Sven, so I didn't get to know them at all. I'd like to paint them all, but I'm to horrified that I'll fail totally, so I just describe them.**_

_**Siv is about one or two inches smaller than me and not thin not fat, but sportively slim. I don't know she just has sharp edges. Shoulders are strong, but still in a girl way. She's pale, but it looks good on her. Her eyes are way too huge, what makes her look more like a girl. They're dark green, but not the olive tone mine have, they're emerald green. She doesn't put make up on. Her hair's short, and I'm not talking about chin-length short, no. I'm talking about less than an inch. It's jet black with emerald green streaks. It's styled with some gel that gets so hard, I dunno how she gets it out without breaking the hair. She said she mixes it by herself and it's probably not allowed to sell that stuff. **_

_**Tif instead is an inch taller than me and it's hard to believe that he's only 15. He looks older. He's well and muscularly built, but doesn't pose. I like that about him. He doesn't act the way he looks. His skin is naturally well tanned, a rare thing here in Iceland, and he has sunny blonde hair. It's about chin lenght or a bit shorter. He has some light brown freckles which dance around on his nose when he eyes have a dark blue shade and remember me of the night sky above Reykjavík. Okay, that was sentimental shit. I sound like my sister when she talks to her boyfriend, what sounds extremely cheesy and unbelieveable dumb. I'll go and hit the mat, before I write more shit. Bye.**_


	4. The Pack's Practice

_Hey yo. So now I'm here with chapter three. I hope you enjoyed the last ones. This one isn't that good, but yeah. BTW limping's not funny, I do it myself and I hate it. Really. I can't even go through the city without people throwing me pitiful looks. Okay, enough of me._

_**The Pack's Practice:**_

_First Practice's results:_

Siv wasn't a girl, she was an alien. She (no, he. Or should I say it?) took Olaf _and _Sven together straight over her shoulder and then _scored._

Olaf was as rough as he looked. He hit me so hard, man I couldn't breathe for a moment.

Sven and Olaf hated me- They beat me black and blue out there. They could have done a bit less, just to be sure that they didn't harm their teammate, but no, they had to crash into me with full speed a few times, even if it wasn't really necessary.

Ari and Rune were both great goalies.

Tif's moves were very smooth, when he glided across the ice towards the goal, he seemed to barely touch it.

I knew now why Siv referred to Njal as the 'only great Hawk'. He was flawless, even though the Keflavík Hawks hadn't… well what I knew they didn't have any reputation.

We had a female trainer for the things off the ice, but she was kinda backup brain for Coach Stansson, too.

Wolf Stansson gave us cookies when we pushed hard. (not literally, but still…)

The worst thing: I could barely change. Firstly, my muscles were aching. Secondly, I felt Olaf stare at me, what scared the friggin crap out of me. Couldn't he just leave me alone when he didn't like me?

_What happened after practice:_

"Hey, spilt boy." Siv hollered happily as she entered our room. Yes, I was rooming with her. No, Stansson didn't care at all for the pregnancy rate of teenagers. Not that I would have touched her, of course. But still… For the nick name, I have to say I got one of the better ones. The others were usually called jackass, asshole or what ever – and those were the nicer ones. When rage built up in her, she used to scream madly and insult us in every language she knew. That would be Icelandic, German, Italian, English and Irish. Irish sounded pretty weird. Italian sounded like a love novel, even though she called us names. However, back to what happened. She tossed her duffel bag on the floor where it slit under her bed. And flopped herself on my bed.

"Don't you feel as fucked up as I do?" I asked moaning as I rolled over and looked at her.

"Cutie, I'm used to that, maybe I've done worse things. You held yourself pretty good today for a guy who never was at a real hockey practice." She smiled gently down at me and stroked my hair. Yes, I let her do that. Why? I let her do that, because she was nice to me and the fact that I _liked_ her doing that. Other guys would have let her stroke their hair, because they wanted to get into her panties. I didn't. Besides she wore boxer shorts. I am not kidding, she really did.

"Why are you so nice to me?" I eyed her.

"We had a bet how long it would take you to throw up. You were a good guy, you made me win. I got… 70 dollars." She smirked widely.

"You are all so rotten…" I groaned.

"Kids are cruel, spilt boy." She lay down beside me. "Does it really hurt that much, or are you just a whimp?" She asked stroking my hair gently. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn't want to show her how weak I was. She shouldn't know that. I needed to get over it alone, but I guess it was too late for backing off now.

"Nah, it's not _that_ bad." I tried to smile weakly, but she saw straight through it.

"Where?" Siv asked, now serious.

"I don't know…" I stuttered ashamed. I couldn't tell her where it hurt most, because she wanted to see, then.

"Pull off your panties, cutie. You can't fool me, I've seen Olaf gunning for your parts."

"It's not…" She raised an eyebrow and let her hand just be an inch over the part of my hip that hurt so much. "STOP!" I yelled. "You got me, but I won't undress in front of you. I mean… You're not really a guy." She rolled her eyes and let her fingers sink lower. I shrieked. "Okay, okay! I'll strip for you, but just for you." I told her.

"See, cutie, not that big of a deal. Now let me see your hip." I carefully moved my boxers away, but just as wide as it was absolutely necessary. "God, you're more of a girlie I ever thought." She looked carefully at the dark lilac bruise which began to form just a few inches on the inner side of my hipbone. "That looks quite bad, maybe the hipbone got dislocated a bit. I've had that before, but it'll wear off in a week and a half, tops. Till then, I wouldn't do to much, but we see if you have to skip practice tomorrow, okay?"

"Skip practice? Are you crazy?" I sat up and stared at her. No way I was going to skip practice. Stansson gave me the chance to play and I would. Believe me, I would.

"Would you rather limp the rest of your life?" She asked.

"If it meant that I can't play in the JGG when I'm not at practice, then yes." I crossed my arms in front of my chest and pounted. I looked like a little child, I bet.

"I have a friend and she's limping. Believe me, I've seen her when her foot was worst and it hurt only looking at her. She had to take cruthes for walking, because she couldn't even stand straight and she's one of the toughest people I know." I snorted.

"Okay, so we'll see tomorrow." I really wanted to play, but I wasn't a fool. She smirked satisfied and rolled off my bed before she vanished into the bathroom.

_**3rd April 2003:**_

_**Great, we had our first practice and I'm the one who got injuried. It didn't hurt at first, but when I came back up to the dorm, I felt like my hip was going to explode every moment. Then Siri, who turned out to be nice, but just in our room, entered and told me that I held myself up bravely. I couldn't resist but ask why she was so nice to me. They had a bet when I'd run out throwing up! Imagine that? I hate them all for that. Well, Siri, the way she is, got straight away that I wasn't okay. She forced me into telling her why I felt so bad and I had to show her my pretty bruise. She told me that I'd maybe have to sit out next practice, but I don't wanna. I mean, I need this spot on the team. I don't wanna go back home. Well, now I have to wait till tomorrow I guess. Night. **_


End file.
